"Interesting," Hoare whispered. "I shall inquire of Hancock. Meanwhile, I shall leave you two behind me in Dorchester, as I originally planned."
He ordered one of the inn's menservants to find the Admiralty's driver and tell him to prepare for their return to Portsmouth, via Dorchester. Hoare went upstairs, then, to pen a temporary farewell to Eleanor Graves.
Back in Dorchester, Hoare found Captain Spurrier, just returned from where ever he had gone in such secrecy and with such speed, all officious smiles.
"Come this way, if you will, sir," he said to Hoare, taking him by the arm in a brotherly way. "I have something to show you."
Spurrier led Hoare to the mortuary where the two Captains' corpses lay. Thoday followed them, uninvited, while the curious Rabbett trailed behind.
"There," he said, pointing.
Both bodies now had heads. Someone had carefully replaced the one that had gone adrift upon the shoulders where it belonged. It was much the worse for wear. The crows had taken its eyes, while they or other scavengers had enjoyed other easily accessible parts-ears and lips most noticeably. In both corpses, corruption had palpably advanced. Finding that an odor he might relish in connection with a properly hung grouse was less appealing in these circumstances, Rabbett made a smothered coughing noise and dashed for the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Spurrier," Hoare said icily. "You might wish to salt the remains down, pending the arrival of the dead men's next of kin."
"You need not teach me my duty, Hoare," Spurrier said.
"On the contrary, sir, I evidently do. You have much to learn." Hoare turned on his heel.
Outside, Hoare instructed Thoday and Rabbett to remain in Dorchester as he had previously ordered. They could put up at the Mitre, if they wished, or arrange for other accommodations.
"There is a daily Admiralty post between Portsmouth and Plymouth, is there not?"
"Yes, sir," Rabbett said. "In fact, I myself, when at Admiralty House, am charged with receiving the post for us and placing our signals in the postboy's hands. When not occupied with other duties, that is, sir."
"And would he not change mounts in Dorchester?" Hoare asked.
"Indeed, sir." He consulted a large silver watch. "In fact, the westward post should be stopping at the Mitre just about now, if he has not already departed."
"Then, as soon as I arrive in Portsmouth, I shall arrange for the postboys to leave there any messages I may have for you. Do you likewise leave with the innkeeper a daily report to be delivered to the eastward-bound messenger, addressed to me."
"A regular matter of that kind would soon come to the ears of others, sir," Thoday objected. "Instead, Rabbett's mother and father dwell on the highway just east of town. Their home is out of sight of here, and hence not under the eyes of prying strangers. His father, of course, is town clerk, so he must be at his desk in the town hall during the day, but his mother could receive and transmit our communications."
Hoare looked at the clerk to seek his reaction.
"She'd be happy to, I know, Mr. Hoare," he said. "Life is quite quiet for her now, since I left home and can no longer entertain her by recounting my adventures when I come home of nights."
"Very good, then. As soon as I arrive at Admiralty House, I shall arrange matters with… To whom do you delegate your duties, Rabbett, when you are absent from your post?"
Rabbett suppressed a snicker at Hoare's inadvertent play on words. "Witherspoon, sir. Jabez Witherspoon. Tell him I sent you."
"Be sure that I shall. Good-bye, then."
Before Hoare could board the chaise, he remembered and stopped.
"By the by, Rabbett," he said, "while I have you in my power."
Quickly he summarized the general concern about missing information, as epitomized by the lost word about those ciphers' being in French, which had irritated Sarah Taylor so.
"Are you aware of a lack of discretion on the part of any of your colleagues on the Admiral's staff?" he asked.
"Oh, no, sir!" Rabbett's reaction was one of shocked surprise. "Never!"
"Well, when you return to your post from this vacation of yours, pray remember to keep a weather eye out."
"Oh, yes, sir. I shall, you may be sure. I can…"
Rabbett's last words of reassurance were lost at the appearance of another vehicle coming down the street, a berlin. It drew up abreast of Hoare, and its occupant looked out the window, a lean, swarthy man, somberly dressed.
"Can you direct me, sir, to the Church of All Angels?"
"You can see its steeple from here, sir," Hoare said. "It is a mere minute away."
A thought struck him; he doffed his cocked hat.
"Do I address a relative of the late Captains Getchell, sir?"
"The father of Francis, sir, and the uncle of Benjamin."
"Please accept my deepest condolences, Mr. Getchell. My name is Hoare. It is my duty to apprehend the person or persons responsible for their deaths."
The father's nostrils flared. "Count on me, sir, for any support you may require. Francis was the pride of my life, as Benjamin was that of his father."
The berlin drove off, leaving Hoare behind in the street, still bareheaded.
"Shove off, driver," he whispered, and climbed into the chaise.
Chapter VI
Once back aboard Royal Duke, Hoare summoned Taylor to his cabin.
"I hope your deciphering of the Jehu texts brings us information that will justify your having summoned me back to this ship," Hoare said. Having spoken, he regretted the tone he had just employed and excused himself to her on the grounds of weariness.
She donned her spectacles. "You can tell better than I, sir," she said. "Once you told me they were probably in French, the matter was easy. I unearthed a French Bible and began with Kings…"
"Very good, Taylor," Hoare replied. "I would be interested to learn how you proceeded, but at a later date. Right now, pray tell me what the messages say."
"Here are the clear, deciphered texts, sir. You can read them at your leisure. Will that be all, sir? If so, I have other pressing business."
Hoare was unused to having his people show such marked independence. Thoday had shown it, and now Taylor had as well. Hoare was not sure this custom in his command pleased him. Certainly, like most of the rest of Royal Duke's peculiar culture, it was not Naval. But Taylor was right; he could read the decrypted texts perfectly well himself.
The decision was made for him.
"Message from Admiralty House, sir," said a voice at his cabin door. Hoare looked up from Taylor's papers before he could even begin, took the message, opened it, and cursed. He set aside the papers Taylor had left with him still without learning whether she had been correct about their urgency.
"Why the hell must Admiral Hardcastle command me to an Admiralty House reception now?" he asked of no one. "Doesn't he know I have five damned pots a-boiling?"
He chirruped his summons to Whitelaw. Once again, the silent servant had nothing to say but set out Hoare's shaving tackle. After bringing hot water from Royal Duke's galley, he took out Hoare's best coat and began to furbish it. Hoare summoned Hancock, the foul-breathed pigeon master, and while adorning himself told him of Thoday's suggestion of the day before, that Hancock create a subsidiary home for his charges in Dorchester.
Hancock stood awhile in thought, then nodded.
"It can easily be done, sir," he said, "as far as delivering messages to Royal Duke is concerned. But to send messages to Christchurch, or to Dorchester or Weymouth, for that matter, that would be another thing again. The birds must accustom themselves to any new destination-it must be home for them, you know-and that takes as long as a week."